http://mistermead.tumblr.com/post/147769002116/a-terrible-thirst-the-ice-cubes-clinked-together

1
https://e-hentai.org/g/949092/92b64d6997/

2
https://e-hentai.org/g/946726/eade7bf3d9/

3
https://e-hentai.org/g/949056/3d5fb507c7/

4
https://e-hentai.org/g/950747/5fc4403e18/

5
https://e-hentai.org/g/951417/08beb0e862/

6
https://e-hentai.org/g/953306/089ff22e61/

7
https://e-hentai.org/g/954705/56bb6b59fa/

8
https://e-hentai.org/g/956893/41316095b1/

The ice cubes clinked together in the Lalique crystal glass, the ambrosial scotch rippling and lightening as the chilled water mixed in. She brought it up to her snout and sipped delicately, savoring the smoky, peaty flavor of the 25-year single malt. The bite of the overproof and following warmth in her belly eased some of the tension in her shoulders.

‘I can’t say,’ the foreman had said. ‘You’d better get down here.’

She grit her teeth, taking another hearty sip, glancing in the mirror. “Telling me what to do. Can you imagine the gall? He’d still be working at a mad house if it weren’t for me!” she looked out the window, watching the slum houses rush by in a blur; the tinted windows were up and was her lip as it curled into a sneer. “Honestly, what could I expect from such stock? If you hire local, you get local; and when the work’s on skid row, well…”

She set the glass down on the mini-bar; the pillowy soft suspension of the Mercedes-Maybach Pullman ensured that there would be no spillage. “I suppose you’re wondering who I’m talking to. And now, you’re not. You’re probably wondering ‘where are we? Where are we going?’ That’s not my problem. You just wait and see. Trust me, you’re going to love this.”

The Pullman pulled up to a large, spacious-looking building surrounded by slum apartments and a few greasy spoons. Waiting on the steps of the building was a nervous-looking marmot; he was wearing a hardhat and high-visibility vest, just like he had been instructed to.

“That’s him, his name is Marshal…something, I didn’t bother to remember,” Swinton said as she stepped out of the Pullman. “He’s quite good at what he does, and cheap, too. Though, I suppose one hundred thousand a year, tax-free, is better than whatever crumbs he was getting before at the mental institution. The clientele are similar, too.”

She looked up at Marshal as she walked up the steps. “This had better be good, Marshal! I can only write off so many trips down here as inspections before the wrong eyebrows start to rise!” She stomped up to the cowering marmot, towering over him. “Now, what is so bloody important that you can’t talk about it over the phone?!”

“Your business partner,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “S-she showed up about twenty minutes ago at the…the farm. She wouldn’t leave when I asked her to, said I had to get you to talk to her.”

“Oh,” Swinton stepped back. “Marshal’s a good boy. He has a good head for this business, very discreet.” She leaned back in, a winning smile on her face. “You did the right thing, Marshal, that’s definitely not a name I want uttered on my phone, where anyone could be listening. Expect a raise at the end of the month.”

“Th-thank you!” Marshal stammered, bowing his head and handing her a hardhat. “This way, Ma’am.”

She walked through the huge main hall of the building, long tables stretched from one end to the other in massive lines, with seating and accommodations for mammals of all sizes. The heavy, chemical smell of fresh paint hung in the air, mingling with the scent of sawdust and drywall. It was the newest building this side of Pack Street by at least twenty years. “A homeless shelter, in case you were wondering. The homeless shelter, in fact. The largest, most accommodating, most well funded shelter in the city! It has it’s own trust fund and everything. When it opens next week, it’ll be able to hold nearly five hundred medium-sized mammals. The filth flows in and flows back out, when there’s that many of them, who’s going to miss one or two here and there? Confused? Follow me, then. Don’t dawdle.”

Swinton and Marshal entered the kitchen area and walked into the massive refrigerator. Marshal reached down and pried open the drain grate; he reached down into the hole and pulled the release cable within. There was a clunk and the floor rose up before falling away, the tiles parting to form stairs. They descended the stairs and came upon a set of rails that stretched off into a dark, sporadically lit tunnel. Marshal hopped onto a nearby tram and opened the door for her, he powered up the little platform as she seated herself.

“Not the most stylish way to travel,” Swinton muttered, before smiling, “But then, it wasn’t meant for me, was it? In fact, most of the people who’ll see this tunnel will have only a bike seat or vinyl covered transit bench for comparison. Still confused? Good. The surprise will make it better.”

The tram squeaked to a stop at the foot of another set of concrete stairs. Swinton and Marshal ascended them and stepped into a hallway lined with cells, the plexiglass doors revealed rooms with simple toiletries and a sturdy-if- austere bunk. Many of the cells were empty, but some were not. Marshal tried his best to keep his eyes ahead, not looking at the vacant, forlorn eyes staring out at them as they walked by. Swinton had so such compunctions.

“Part of being a responsible farmer is resource management,” Swinton said as she stopped to examine the stock, a thin, hollow-cheeked snow leopard dressed in nothing but a white hospital gown; her pale green eyes gazed back as she cowered away. “Like this. A new acquisition, but one of interest. Our customers will pay top dollar for her coat, but as is she’s not in the best of shape, too thin, too fragile. We’ll need to fatten her up before we shave her. It’s the only compassionate option, you see.” Swinton turned to Marshal. “This one! She’s a little thin, isn’t she? I was in here not two weeks ago and she looks like she hasn’t gained a pound!”

Marshal nodded and stepped forward, not looking at the captive. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but she won’t eat; not a bite for days! We’ll have to put her on an I.V. if this keeps up.”

“Marshal. He’s got a good head, but a soft heart,” Swinton grunted, turning back to Marshal. “An I.V will only keep her alive. We need her to be healthy and fat! Put her under and make her eat through a tube!”

“But Ma’am–!” Marshal began.

“But what?!” Swinton hissed. “She’s a snow leopard! Dense, rich, thick fur in a naturally beautiful pattern! Do you have any idea how much the Reptilians will pay for a square foot of her pelt? Get her healthy again, then hook her on ‘nip or something and withhold it until she eats. It’s that simple!”

Marshal blinked, his expression shocked, before he looked down at his feet and nodded. “Y-yes, Ma’am. I’ll get some nurses on it ASAP.”

“See that you do,” Swinton said, flicking her blonde hair out of her eyes as she resumed back down the hall. “See what I have to work with here? Honestly, it’s like I have to do everything myself!”

Swinton stepped out into the parking lot outside the farm building, a large, abandoned-looking warehouse with boarded over windows and gang-tags scrawling the walls. She was assured somewhat by the high walls surrounding the lot that they would not be spied on. Swinton looked around, unconsciously sniffing the air. “I’m here now. You can come out of hiding.”

There was a rustling sound followed by a dull electric keening, Swinton looked over to see a ripple and crease in the air, the image shimmered and distorted before retracting upwards, eventually revealing part of a large grey parasol that stretched to the ground. The parasol lifted up, beneath it a polished platinum-white metallic platform partially encased in an articulated, gold-plated dome. The platform was some five feet across and rolled forward on a single black sphere 1/3rd embedded in the bottom. The parasol folded and retreated further on its mechanical arm, finally disappearing into an ornately designed terrace that encircled the dome, save for an opening at the front. The dome clicked and opened partially, revealing a dark recess within. From the shadowy depths shone two glittering marbles atop a mass of dimly lustrous scales. A foot-long purplish tongue flicked out and tasted the air, followed by her massive, triangular head. Hidden within the rolling machine were the endless, overlapping coils of an exceptionally huge and imposing green anaconda, the visiting envoy from Herpetopia. Her scales we a dim and lustrous earthy green offset by the polished gold metal plates and technicolor feathers of her articulated headdress; truly, a regal creature.

“Ambassador Eunectes,” Swinton said, bowing shallowly to convey respect but not submission. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“No special reason, Mayor Swinton,” the enormous snake said, her voice was low and almost soothing in its gelid timbre, like a slow trickle of ice water. “I merely wished to inspect the workings of our mutual business arrangement. Naturally, I must gauge the potential output of such a facility.”

“Naturally,” Swinton said, smirking as she looked aside. “Repulsive creatures, truly, but they make good business partners. See, walk a mammal through the farm and they’re liable to fly into some kind of moral outrage. But a Reptile? Their first question would be ‘do you charge by the square foot, or the square meter?’ followed quickly by ‘what is your projected annual output?’ From there it’s all about negotiation.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Marshal said from behind. “I tried to explain to her why she couldn’t be here, but she refused to leave.”

“But, of course,” Swinton said, not breaking eye-contact with Eunectes. “You’re not talking to a Mammal, here, Marshal. You probably told her to leave and then tried to explain why. It doesn’t matter how good of a reason you gave, you, as an inferior, issued orders to her, a highly venerated and respected member of the aristocracy; she was practically obliged to disregard your request.”

“Uh–” Marshal looked at his feet, confused.

“Your groundskeeper stank of earth and moldy onions,” Eunectes murmured, locking a glassy, predatory glare on the terrified marmot. “Interesting that you would elect a farmhand to oversee this operation.”

“Marshal has an advanced skill set outside of his burgeoning talents in horticulture,” Swinton countered, her tone carrying just the right amount of veiled conceit as to excite the Reptile’s curiosity. “He’s presently working on a… side-project. Cultivating exotic flora and the like.”

“M-ma’am!” Marshal exclaimed, fidgeting nervously.

“Ah!” Swinton interrupted. “Go inside and make sure our finest stock is on display. Prepare the samples and some refreshments for our guests.”

“Guests?” Marshal muttered. “But she’s the only–”

Two massive saltwater crocodiles stepped forward, their cloaks flickering as they attempted to emulate the change in surroundings; with a deliberate flair they pushed the chameleo-lattice back over their shoulders. They were intimidating specimens; reared up on their hind legs they must have been twelve feet tall if not a foot, and probably weighed upwards of two thousand pounds. Her guards stepped forward and uttered deep thunderous bellows; Marshal squeaked and scurried towards the building.

“Porosus!” Swinton exclaimed, smiling toothily as she approached the larger of the two. “You’ve grown since I last saw you. You’ve been eating well, I trust?”

“My former commander did not swim strongly enough,” Porosus rumbled. “The current of the capitol pushed him into my jaws. My inheritance by him has seen me well fed this past year.”

“You wouldn’t guess it from looking at them, but Reptilians pride themselves on florid metaphors and wordplay in common conversation. Though brutal as a race, they see it as a sign of civility to cultivate an advanced vocabulary and wit.” Swinton chuckled and nodded respectfully. “Make no mistake, though, even metaphors can be deadly.”

“I assume you have some questions, then, Ambassador?” Swinton said, gesturing for them to follow.

They did, Swinton held open the door and took care to make her back was to them, as a sign of confidence in their mutual agreement. “Ah, Reptilians. Older, wiser, much more advanced. If they were Mammals, they would have conquered the world by now! Luckily, their basic psychology prevents them from trusting one another long enough to do anything but hold onto what they have. They’re intelligent, ruthless, self-absorbed, and intrinsically untrustworthy. Utterly predictable. The perfect business partners.”

“And through here, you’ll notice a few samples of our stock,” Swinton said, gesturing at the five or so Mammals standing at attention in their cells. “As you can plainly see, they are healthy, well-fed, and meticulously groomed. Their fur should be ready for harvest within a week. After their fur is shaved and affixed to a sheet, the stock is sent to the care wing to recuperate while another lot is prepped for harvest.” Swinton turned to her company. “At present, we can maintain an output of 150 square feet per month, and the best part is, it’s renewable!”

“Indeed, and the slow-growing crop yields the highest demand,” Eunectes said, extending her thick body to examine one of the captives, a cowering coypu. “From whence do these wretches come? I understand Mammals can find room in their hearts for many, who are these that their absence goes unheeded?”

“Vagrants and indigents, mostly,” Swinton said, with a snort. “The homeless, the insane, the lazy. At least here they are of use to someone.”

“Mmmm…” Eunectes cooed. “Such flaws in character and blood are not suffered in Herpetopia. Citizens flaunting such traits are recycled, as is their right as weaklings. That you have divined such a use for the detritus of your race speaks volumes of your business acumen. We will renew our contract.”

“There’s the bait,” Swinton grumbled. “Here comes the switch. If I don’t impress now, they’ll be a lot less coy next time around.”

“However,” Eunectes hissed.

“See?”

“There is a concern regarding output,” she continued. “While 150 square feet per month is certainly ideal for maintaining demand, we must be able to accommodate at least ten times that amount for…extraordinary circumstances. There are hisses of the Empress taking an interest in Mammalian products; therefore we must be prepared to fulfill any outrageous demand. Can you be relied upon to oblige her potential appetites?”

Swinton smirked and flipped a switch on the wall, the lights in the long hallway snapped on in sequence, revealing row after row of cells. “There are five more wings like this one in the building. At present, we are operating at 1% capacity. With a nearby shelter providing quick, easy access to resources, each one of those cells should be full by the end of the year. I hope your Empress likes fur.”

Eunectes hissed appreciatively, her beady, lidless eyes glittered in the florescent lights.

Back out in the parking lot, Swinton was accompanying Eunectes and her smaller guard out of the building.

“Porosus will stay and oversee the project in my stead,” Eunectes said. “I hope that is not too great an imposition.”

“Not at all,” Swinton said, shaking her head. “He will bring a certain respectability and elegance to the place, I’m sure.”

“Mmm,” Eunectes said, nodding appreciatively. “I must say, Mayor Swinton, it is rare to meet a Mammal with so many admirable traits as yourself. I am pleased to resume business with you.”

“Admirable traits,” Swinton scoffed. “No doubt she’s referring to my casual disregard for the stock in there. Not many people know this, but willful cruelty is a distinctly Mammalian trait. Reptiles, on the other hand, simply have no regard for the wellbeing of others; they have no need to inflict pointless cruelty. Typically, they see our social interactions as quaint at best, and as obstructions of business at worst. My disregard for the stock as people but my good treatment of them as product has no doubt left a good impression.” She turned and smiled, laughing airily. “Oh, why thank you, Ambassador! Might I say that I find your taste in business partners to be flawless! Also, that headdress, that’s gold, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” said Eunectes. “24 karat gold. Hand crafted.”

“Is that–” Swinton began to say before a thunderous bellow cut through the air.

She spun around to see the other crocodile guard streak towards a dumpster in the corner of the parking lot. He flung the heavy steel dumpster through the air as though it were a cardboard box, there was a loud clacking sound as his jaws snapped shut. The huge crocodile shambled over, stopping in front of Swinton. He stooped over and spat a tiny, trembling mass at her feet.

Swinton did her best to not appear surprised. “Bobby, is that you?”

“A-a-a-a-a-aaaaah…” the little, shivering feline stammered.

“Enough of that,” Swinton commanded, offering her hand. “Stand up, Bobby.”

He rose to his feet, his eyes were huge inky pools lined with green. “Uhhh…”

“He is with you?” Eunectes crooned as she slithered forward to examine the child.

“Yes,” Swinton said, patting him on the shoulder. “He’s from an at-risk children’s home that I have in my debt. Every so often I have the children make deliveries for me. Isn’t that right, Bobby?”

“Muh-mew-m-medicine,” Bobby stuttered, unshouldering his backpack.

“Ah yes, the ‘medicine’. For the stock, you see,” Swinton clarified. “To keep them placid.”

“Mmmmmm…” Eunectes cooed, bringing her head very close to the terrified child. “Oh, but I do love children, although I could never finish a whole one.” She chuckled softly as Bobby went stiff with terror, as though galvanized. “So I content myself with but a taste.”

Her large, bruise-purple tongue flicked out and dabbed Bobby’s cheek, the light flick of contact enough to make him squirm away.

Swinton rolled her eyes and gave him a pat on the rump. “Well? Are you just going to stand and gawk all day? Get the medicine inside and leave out back. Quickly, now, don’t dawdle!”

Bobby didn’t need much convincing and scurried away in a hurry. Swinton sighed and turned back to Eunectes. “One must keep them busy, otherwise they get–”

“Soft,” Eunectes said, her tongue flicking out. “Very soft. Thick, plush, downy.”

Swinton glanced aside, a smile pulling at the sides of her mouth. “You know what they say: if there’s a market, make a product.”

I hate alliteration jokes -__-

Base +2

I just want Grizzled Nick to boot her off the force and back to bunny burrow. She's too reckless.

Base +7

You know this light-hearted episode is just setting us up for the incredibly depressing next one.
He knows if it were constantly depressing it would get old, but if he takes a pause to let us recover the depression hits us that much harder next time.

Base +6, johsp +6, SSSdriver +7, sukn +6

I'm starting to get the feeling Mead should be writing a book.

Base +7, israelhusky +4, Jeffsmov +8, sukn +6